He Didn't Mean to Make It Hurt so Bad
by RedParka
Summary: Ivan wants Toris back.
1. Be With Me

"Don't leave," I couldn't tell if it was a command or a request.

"But I-"

"Everyone leaves, just stay. Stay," if he didn't sound so desperate, I would be afraid. Now I just felt sorry for him. He clutches onto my arm, and I can't pull away. I couldn't leave even if I wanted to.

"I need to go. I'm independent now. You can't stop me."

Hurt, his violet eyes look away for just a second. He yanks on my arm, pulls me down on top of him. Perhaps I'm not as strong as I think, but I struggle anyway. In a few minutes, I give up that fight. He holds my back tight to his belly with one arm, strokes my hair with the other.

"This is nice, da?"

His heat soaks through my jacket, stifling me. Nervousness and heat soak my back with sweat.

"I-it's hot."

"Then let's take your jacket off, Toris." Still pinning me to him, he unbuttons my jacket with one hand and slowly pulls it off.

"Aren't you hot?" I tug on one of his sleeves. It's not like I want less layers between us, but my throat is too dry and my body is too wet.

"Mm, yeah. I guess." He slides off his coat while keeping me close.

There is less Ivan and more air without his coat.

"I miss you," he says softly as his left arm slides up my back and fingers the knotted scars. Unintentionally, I whimper and shudder as his cold hand traces my past and memories that I don't want.

"I'm sorry," he whispers as he nuzzles into my shoulder.

"Why? Why are you saying this now?" I choke on the dry lump in my throat. "Why-I mean, how can you say this now? After all you've done?"

He rests his forehead on my neck and sighs heavily. The cool air flutters down my back like a butterfly trapped between us. He leans on me for a few more seconds, breathing butterflies, before he turns me around with one of my legs on either side of my lap.

"I didn't know any better," Ivan sulks. He looks me in the eyes, and it hurts to see his hurt. Then he pulls me close, chest-to-chest, and he lays his head in the crook of my neck. One hand lazily plays with my scars.

"I like the way they feel," he explains before I ask. "Reminders of me for you."

For a few seconds, I am part of Russia again. I am breathing the same breath, sharing the same beating heart.

He pulls back my hair and gingerly licks my neck. I shiver and push away from him. He does not resist.

"You want to go..." he says dejectedly.

"Yes, I want to go." I firmly assert as I grab my coat.

He does not say another word, just watches me leave.

With the door closed behind me and the frosted air swirling around me, I stop. I feel the scars and I think to myself _Why did I even come here?_


	2. You Wouldn't Leave Again, da?

_Ugh, why did I come here?_

Biting my lip, I glance back at his door.

_Screw it._

"You came back." He looks up from his bed, but he's not surprised. He just smiles a little and nonchalantly rolls onto his back. "Come here."

Hesitating for a second, I step forward, drop my coat on the floor, and collapse onto Ivan. He holds me tight and purrs in my ear, "I'm so glad."

I curl up into Ivan's chest and listen to his heart beat. His hand runs through my hair and trails down to my back again, sending shivers up my spine.

_Here I am, back again. It's going to be different this time, right? I mean, it wasn't _that _bad the first time..._

"Toris," Ivan says.

"Yes?"

"Take off your shirt."

"What? I mean, why?"

"I will explain. We take your shirt off now, da?"

I sit up and straddle Ivan's chest as I warily unbutton my shirt.

"So what is this about?" I question him as I tug each sleeve off my shoulders.

He grabs my waist and flips me face down onto the bed. He presses down on me with his weight, trapping me.

"You're still mine," he mutters into my ear as he crushes me with his chest.

I can hardly breathe with my face forced into the sheets. He lightens his pressure, but still keeps me down.

"You left me. You left me. You..." he trails off, drifting into silence for a second. "I need to punish you for that. You don't even listen to me. Why? Why is that? Tell me. Tell me or I punish you."

"Ugh, I-I..." I choke on my words.

"Continue. Don't lie, Toris."

"It hurt...**you** hurt me."

"You hurt me, too. But now... Now I am going to make it hurt so much more," he announces, almost apologetically. Quietly he adds, "You'll never want to leave me again."

The glint of shiny, sharp metal catches my eye. I squirm under his tight grasp, but I am a caught mouse under a cat's paw.

The first cut is always the worst. After the knife pierces my back, he unhurriedly drags it along. Each stroke of his knife is like the stroke of a painter, meticulous and precise. I wish I was truly thinking of how his torture is an art, but instead my thoughts were blank.

I bite into the sheets to keep from screaming.

Blood spills from deep slashes, drips down my sides.

"Nn," I moan. He hears me and stops cutting me. As I pant for air, I notice for the first time that hot, acid tears trickle to join blood soaking the sheets.

"I bet you hurt now. Here." I hear him shuffling for something on his nightstand. A bottle pops open and something splashes onto my cuts.

Finally, I scream. He giggles sadistically, then rolls off of me and onto his back.

He takes a swig of vodka and smiles.

"Now, if you are good, I never have to punish you. Be good, da?"


	3. Soup

I'm not crying, I'm gushing. I'm overflowing and choking on hateful tears.

"Hm? Toris, you are crying? You've never cried before."

"I-I'm crying bec-cause I..." I've never cried this hard. I've never cried in front of Ivan, but for the first time I'm shaking, practically convulsing, from the flood of tears and emotions that had been pent up for so long.

"I thought you had changed! I came back... that's why... that's why I'm here. I thought you had changed, I thought you were different. I thought this..." my voice fades as my head catches up with what I'm saying. Finally, I mutter softly, "I thought this would never happen again."

He puts his hand on my shoulder, looks me in the eye, but when he says, "Oh, Toris" it's like he doesn't see my pain at all. There's a small smile in his face, masked under mock-sympathy.

I shove him away. I try to get up, but when he grabs my ankle, I end up only making it to the floor.

"Toris, you are still mine. You can't leave."

"No, I'm inde... independent," I pant. When I kick, he lets go.

I only look back at him one more time. He is about to speak, but before the words leave his mouth, I answer him:

"I can't live like this anymore. You know I'm not part of you anymore. Good bye."

I lurch forward and grab my coat, and pull it on. It rubs on the gashes in my back and I flinch.

Suddenly, he's behind me, gripping my shoulders. He whispers false promises into my ear, little things he never told me until now. I don't let him stop me and a wriggle painfully from his grasp.

Before I know it, I'm outside. I'm back outside and again in the frozen night. The cold air tosses my hair, tickles my back where the blood has soaked through the thick fabric.

_What am I doing? I can't just leave. What if he comes after me?_

But now I have to shake those thoughts from my worrying mind. There are more important things to think about. I don't know how to make it home.

It's been such a long time, but as I stumble over snow drifts, I remember how. All the forgotten things come back to me. I'm remembering myself.

Yes, I am Lithuania. I'm not just a satellite state anymore.

"Lithuania, that's me," I giggle. Maybe the pain has gone to my head, but I can't stop grinning. "I'm me. I'm me and I'm free."

Once or twice I fall over, sinking into the fluffy snow. Despite my cuts and the cold, I'm laughing. Everything is going to be alright, right? Yes. Yes, it is.

Somehow I make it home. I open the door, and collapse onto the floor. My floor. My floor is wonderful.

"Like, Toris!" Feliks exclaims.

"What are..." I can't finish. Too tired.

"Ohmygod you look awful," he continues, ignoring my question. "Like, where have you been? I have been, like, missing you and stuff. When was the last time I saw you? After World War II or something? Haha, like I don't even know."

I manage to pull myself back to my feet and drag myself to the bathroom. Feliks keeps talking, but it's not annoying to me. It's kind of soothing.

When I take off my jacket, he gasps.

"Whoa, like what happened? I don't think that I have, like, a band-aid big enough for all that."

"Ah, I can... do it myself," I can barely finish a sentence. Eventually, I make it to the bathtub. I don't even care that I'm still wearing pants. I turn the faucet and let the hot water soak into my freezing body.

Maybe I fell asleep in the tub. The next thing I remember is being dry on my bed and covered in a blanket with Feliks shoving a bowl a soup in my face.

"I made you some, like, soup. Yeah, you totally look like you need soup."

"Ah, thanks," I smile and take the bowl. "Um, do you think it would be possible to have a spoon?"

"Ohmygod, did I seriously forget a spoon? I'll, like, go get one."

"Thanks again. For everything."

"Except for spoons, right? Cause I totally didn't get you one."

That soup was the best tasting soup I had ever eaten. Maybe it was because, for once, I was finally free.

Now, Ivan's words come back to me. Before I left, he told me: "Toris, I know I hurt you. I never wanted you to leave, and this is how I show it, da? I know no other way. Please, stay. I've always loved you the most, maybe that is why I hurt you so much."

And I said, "No."


End file.
